


Memories of a dying man

by Murdersfriesandgayguys



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Memories, Season 2, mildly sexual, sad Will :(
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 11:13:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18030650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murdersfriesandgayguys/pseuds/Murdersfriesandgayguys
Summary: Laying on the floor of Hannibal Lecter's kitchen, surrounded by pools of his own blood, Will Graham looks back on his life as the lover of The Chesapeake Ripper and wonders where everything went so wrong.Before you say anything, this fic is meant to be an alternate universe. No conversations are canon or accurate to the script. Please enjoy this very self indulgent piece!





	Memories of a dying man

As he lay there in a pool of his own blood, his hand laying limply against the neck of the young girl next to him in a pitiful attempt to save her life, he wondered how he had gotten into this whole mess. The memories flashed across his mind like advertisements for products that no sane person would ever buy, flashes of moments, beautiful, sorrowful, but all of these memories were nothing but gorgeous to Will in these, what he presumed to be his final moments on this godforsaken planet which seemed to have done nothing but throw blow after blow of shit towards him through his life, the final one being his love, the man that he thought loved him back, thrusting a blade into his body and slashing through the flesh as easily as a warm knife through butter. Through his cries of pain and convulsions that wracked his entire body, Hannibal Lecter had continued to tear through him, tearing the very fabric of his being in the process, thread by thread, piece by piece, Will had fallen to the ground and watched as the man who had captured his affections for so long, held his curiosity, walked away into the night and left him to die. Had Hannibal really loved him at all? He supposed not. Perhaps he had loved him far too much and that love had torn him apart the same way the knife had torn Will.

From the moment Will had met him, Hannibal had been nothing but interesting, igniting the flames of Will’s innate curiosity and fanning those flames when they burned low to rejuvenate them into beautiful plumes of reds and yellows that licked at the world around them. He couldn’t help the weak, bitter smile that passed his lips as he remembered that first day in Jack Crawford’s dingy little office, sitting there terrified at the thoughts of meeting the one and only Dr Lecter. That was the day it all began.

****

He didn’t want to be here. If anything, he wanted to be anywhere else, but, nonetheless, he was here, sitting with his right leg box-crossed over his left in the most blasé pose he could manage in an attempt to seem more manly and relaxed. Will was neither of those things. His knee bounced up and down despite his constant attempts to keep it under control. He felt as if the floor was shaking under the sheer power of his knee bounce and began to overthink it all, fretting about whether he looked okay or whether this man would find him repulsive, but as soon as the Doctor entered the room, he stood to attention, shaking his hand before resuming his position, trying his living best to avoid eye contact on any and every level imaginable. His thoughts cleared the second that Dr Lecter’s voice made its way to his brain. The man’s voice was slick in his ears as if it were oiling the rusted cogs within his head, making them turn more freely than they had in a while, but with that came an unfamiliar sense of nervousness and upset that Will hadn’t felt in years. How could one person make him feel that good in such a short space of time?

“Good afternoon, Mr Graham. My name is Dr Hannibal Lecter, but you may call me whatever you wish.” All that Will could think in that moment was ‘Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck…’ but none of the curses escaped his lips, he merely nodded and bit his lip gently, trying to think through his response carefully. This man was going to be digging around inside his head, probing at his brain, learning what made him tick, what made him feel joy. It wasn’t wise to get on his bad side,

“It’s nice to meet you, Dr Lecter…” He mumbled, barely audible below the regular sounds of an office building. If the man couldn’t hear him then he couldn’t figure anything out, right? Right. He took a breath and settled back into an overly relaxed position, attempting to just shut off his emotions entirely, staring straight at the man, but avoiding his eyes as he had promised himself the second the man had entered the room, he spoke, “I don’t particularly need a shrink in my opinion, but Jack says I need to so… Here I am. I don’t want to waste your time. Let’s just do our hour or so a week and then leave it at that, okay?” Jack seemed a bit miffed about Will calling the shots, but stayed quiet, watching the two intently. Will was sure a hole was being borne into the side of his face from the strength of his gaze, but decided to ignore the discomfort of his gaze by, instead, focusing instead on that soft accent again.

“Perhaps we will just become friends talking. It needn’t be professional at all. Friends having a conversation are allowed to have a drink and converse freely on any number of topics. You may prefer it that way.” The proposal was tempting, having someone to talk to and confide in without the label of ‘Psychiatrist’ and ‘Patient’ would surely be pleasant. He took a nervous breath and nodded slightly, accepting the offer. What else was he supposed to do? Jack was sitting right there, making the imaginary hole in the side of Will’s head bigger and bigger by the second. Hannibal seemed to notice the discomfort the man was causing to his new patient and decided to put a stop to it,  
“Wonderful. We’ll get started immediately. Mr Crawford, I’ll have to ask you to leave for a moment while we arrange our times and limits. Afterwards, you may have your office back.” Jack seemed slightly pissed off about being kicked out of his own office, but left anyway, turning his swivel chair around dramatically and standing to slink out through the door which he slammed closed behind him, making Will jolt slightly in his chair. A small laugh escaped his lips and he looked at his new psychiatrist, speaking softly,

“I don’t enjoy having my brain picked apart, Doctor. You wouldn’t like me when I’m psychoanalysed.” He thought he was being really badass and hard to read, but Hannibal merely laughed and sat back, crossing his legs neatly and folding his hands in his lap, seeming inquisitive in his manner. Will resented the wonderfully calm demeanour of the strange foreign psychiatrist, glaring at him slightly for not taking his situation as seriously as he felt it should be taken. “What are you laughing at? I’m serious. My brain is not to be tampered with. I feel like I could be dangerous…”

“I assure you, Mr Graham, I was merely amused at the strength of your character. It’s not every day that I am given the pleasure of meeting someone who knows their mind so well.” Hannibal was smiling sweetly, eyes glinting. A beautiful concoction of hazel and honey, melted with gold. Will felt breathless, a blush creeping up onto his cheeks which he hid expertly with a simple tilt of his head downwards, staring at his own tarnished jeans and glaring at them as if he hated them. He was sure that the curious Doctor was smirking or tilting his head to the side at the sheer stupidity of the patient before him. He didn’t know why, but he was staring and gritting his teeth in an attempt to seem less involved than he really was.

“Well marvel away, I’m going to get coffee.” He grabbed a pen and scribbled down his phone number and handed it to the man, “Call me and tell me when my first appointment is. I’ll be there early.” He mumbled and stuck his hands in his pockets before wandering out of the room, glancing to Jack and mumbling in the most bratty way possible, “Go back in. It’s rude to leave a guest unattended to.” before heading for the stairs. He heard the familiar sound of the door slamming shut behind Jack as he reentered his office and laughed quietly, wondering if Hannibal was doing the same.

****

The tears were free flowing now. Tears that burned his eyes and stung his cheeks, leaving tracks of white against his blood stained cheeks, mixing with crimson upon the floor. That day had been the start of something beautiful. A rush of emotions that had overwhelmed Will to the point that he lay awake for nights on end with images of that damned smile flashing across his mind as he had waited for that first ever phone call, the first time that buttery voice had crossed through his phone, sweet on his ear drums. They had talked for hours that night, speaking about issues and dreams and their respective pasts. God he could still hear that laugh even if he wanted to forget it.

Now though, all he could hear was those last few words, replaying over and over and tearing at his very soul,

“I let you see me…”

He thought he could hear sirens in the distance, but he didn’t much care. What was his life without the man he loved? He may as well just be left to bleed out on the cold tiles.

****

Suddenly being pressed up against a ladder, Will was being suffocated beneath the familiar musky scent with a light mask of expensive cologne. As of yet, he had only smelled that cologne from afar, but now it was encasing him like a cocoon encases a butterfly. He stared up into those eyes, those honey-hazel eyes, and smiled a nervous smile. They had been having ‘conversations’ for months now, but every one had become increasingly more flirtatious with Hannibal’s soft words and Will’s stuttering compliments. It had all come to this.

Will was pressed against a ladder, a foreign hand pressed against his hip, warm fingers caressing his jaw as if it were made of porcelain. Will’s own hands were gripping the ladder tightly, fingers pressing crescents into the wood. Every inch of his skin was alight with electricity as the light in the room faded into nothingness, his eyes shutting as lips met lips and bodies pressed close in desperate attempts to put this human jigsaw together at last. Each stuttering breath as lips parted was shared, each experimental touch was welcomed with open arms until Will was pushed up against the solid oak desk and his legs were hoisted out from beneath him and wound themselves around his psychiatrist’s waist, fingers spread against the varnished wood for balance.

“You’re quite a bit lighter than I thought you would be, Will.” The man above him teased, running large hands up his back, finding his way beneath the shirt that clung to Will’s body. Will rolled his eyes and leaned closer to Hannibal.

“Shut up.” He mumbled, leaning in to catch his lips in a kiss, his hands finding their way up to his lover’s hair, tangling his fingers among the soft strands. It wasn’t often that Hannibal Lecter was silent, but right now, Will had all the power over him, teasing him with kisses that just weren’t hard enough or touches that just weren’t low enough to please the man. Will finally had his power over Hannibal. He finally had leverage over the man who had been unpicking the threads of his memory and thoughts for weeks, and Will loved it.

Hannibal’s hands moved with expert precision, removing clothes and setting them gently down so as to avoid creasing the cheap, charity store fabric. Softly calloused fingers caressed skin as if it were a soft silk bed linen, freshly plucked from the drier. Will’s body was alight, hairs standing up on his arms as those goddamned fingers sank lower and lower to the button of his jeans, popping it open easily. And when they sank lower again…

****

A choked wail escaped chapped, blood stained lips. The memory of that night seemed to be fading in his mind and all attempts to claw it back into his arms were failing. As his consciousness evaded him, he crawled towards the girl he had once called his daughter who was now merely a bloodied corpse on the tiled floor. He rested his head against her chest and choked out a sob, running his fingers through her tangled and blood soaked hair. That poor girl had been through too much, surviving through much more than any normal child would in their entire life. But Abigail Hobbs wasn’t normal. No. She was special, having witnessed the death of her father and almost been killed by that same hand, it recovering and making a new life for herself without her terrible father and absent mother. That new life was one with Hannibal Lecter.

Will remembered being told that Abigail had died, remembered being blamed for it and being locked up in that damned prison. Baltimore state institution for the criminally insane. He had always been afraid of that place, avoiding it at all costs for fear of walking in and never being allowed back out again. The night after he was arrested, he remembered that the sorrow of it had been too much to bear in his weak state and he spent nights in his cold, dark cell, staring at the ceiling and sobbing over the girl who he had come so close to becoming a father figure to.

Will had always wanted to be a father, but his genes were just much too risky to pass on. He wouldn’t wish his mind on his worst enemy, let alone a helpless child. And now, as he lay there on the ground with her, soothing his hands through her hair, he was left with nothing but a feeling of bitter regret and anguish about what might have been. His body was shutting down, but his mind was not. He kept pressure on his wound with his right hand, bringing his left down to join it. People were entering the house now and he knew that if he didn’t make noise, they wouldn’t find him, save him. He had suffered through too much to die at the hands of his lover. He wasn’t going to go out without a fight.

“Help…” he choked, barely audible above the whirring of the broken lights in the room, “Help…” again, no response. His mouth felt dry and his voice was weak, but his heart was strong and knew that he needed to escape. Using the very last of his energy, he yelled, “Help!”

And that was all he remembered before he blacked out.

****

“My dear, Will. Are you awake yet?” Spoke a soothing voice next to his ear. All he could feel around him was softness and warmth. It was the unmistakable feeling of Hannibal Lecter’s master bedroom. The linens were tossed and crumpled from activities the night before and, as Will opened his eyes, he saw a man laying amongst them, looking like some sort of Greek God, drapes in fine linen. Will reached over and grabbed his glasses from the nightstand, putting them on so that he could see the beauty next to him more clearly.

“Only barely. What time is it?” Will mumbled in a gruff morning voice that pulled a small laugh from his partner, accompanied by a sweet kiss to the nose that Will tried his best to turn away from.

“Almost noon, my dear. I let you sleep in because you were so well behaved last night.”

“Yeah well don’t ask me to behave at one of your stupid dinner parties again. I’m never going to be like your friends, Hannibal. I like looking homeless and that’s that.” He wasn’t exactly annoyed that Hannibal had made him sit at dinner with a number of opera enthusiasts, pretending that he knew what an Allegro was and that the Adagio was his favourite part of the entire work, but having to watch Hannibal flirt with everyone in the room and survey them, examine them, was painful for Will. He wanted nothing more than to kick him in the shin and demand attention, but he had stayed composed and sat there, appreciating the difference between the guests and himself.

“You were wonderful, Will. They all adored you. Even if you did commend the Adagio for being very lively.” Hannibal laughed and moved slightly closer to Will, making his breath hitch and his eyes widen slightly. He was so close that Will could almost kiss-, “But you must get up. I have patients to attend to at my office and, as much as I appreciate your presence, I would rather be present in my home while you are here. Up, up.” Will groaned and dragged himself out of the bed, pulling on his boxers and then searching for some of Hannibal’s clothes to wear as his were fairly ripe from the nerves of the night before.

“You don’t trust me?” He pouted playfully and pulled out a plain white shirt that he found at the back of the closet. Hannibal obviously didn’t like this one much. He tugged on the fabric over his arms, much to the dismay of the Doctor behind him, evidenced by an unimpressed click of the tongue.

“That shape is all wrong for you.” Hannibal remarked.

“Yeah well I’m only wearing it home. It’s my day off, remember?”

“That shirt doesn’t suit you. You should wear a different one. If one doesn’t look good, one doesn’t feel good.”

“I look fine.”

“Fine shouldn’t be a descriptor for you, William.”

“Oh fuck you, I’m wearing the shirt. Fine is good enough for me.” He huffed and began buttoning it up, pulling on his jeans that he had left here on a previous trip that had now been laundered, starched and folded neatly so that no unwanted creases would appear. He looked to Hannibal who was practically cringing at the outfit choice and sat down on the bed to put on his boots, making sure to really show off the fact that he was actually wearing work boots with a white shirt and jeans. He then stalked out of the room with purpose and pride at his outfit choice, smirking to himself for the win he just had over his controlling partner. Hannibal often won, but when Will won, it was a sweet, sweet victory. He would hold this over Hannibal for days, maybe even weeks.

When he reached the kitchen, he helped himself to a cup of coffee and some fruit that he had never seen not heard of before that tasted somewhat like mango, but looked like an apple. He payed no attention to Hannibal when he came downstairs, dressed in an eyesore of a suit that he somehow managed to make look good. It was unfair, really, how attractive that man could be.

“You’re much too stubborn Will. I was merely suggesting that you wear something more flattering. I find your scruffiness quite charming, but change is good at times.” Will felt arms around his waist and lips against his neck, smiling slightly as he tried to wriggle out of Hannibal’s grasp.

“You love my stubbornness. Hell, you even applaud it at times, you idiot.” He laughed and turned around in his arms, pecking his lips once. “I’ll see you soon. Don’t be afraid to call me. I know that you sit in that office and stare at the phone. No need to act like you don’t.” He teased and pulled back to finish drinking his coffee.

“Until we meet again, my love.” Hannibal smiled. Will only rolled his eyes and went to the hallway, shrugging on his coat and heading out to the car. He couldn’t help but smile at how terribly domestic this all was. How wonderfully, terribly domestic.

****

Will woke up crying in an unfamiliar bed, surrounded by beeping and a sound that was not unlike wind coming through a crack in a door on a stormy morning. He looked around quickly, head snapping to look at the wires curling like snakes around his arms and entering his body in various different places. He pressed the button for a nurse in a blind panic, letting out a breathy groan at the pain searing through his abdomen. He suddenly remembered why he was here and was filled with more sorrow than he thought possible in one human being. He cried softly as more images of Hannibal flashed across his mind like the flickers of a dying fire.

“Mr Graham, you woke up! How wonderful. Let me just get all these terrible machines off you and we’ll talk about your treatment and surgery costs.” This nurse was much too chirpy for someone who was about to deliver pocket-breaking news to a man who had nearly died at the hand of his own lover. He squinted to read the name on her name tag, sighing softly. Denise. Of course she was a Denise. She seemed like a Denise. Sweet, lovely Denise who was about to tell him that he couldn’t afford to continue his treatment and leave him dead in a ditch on the side of some deserted back road. “Someone has paid for your treatment. An anonymous person. Paid in cash.” Will knew who it was. He knew exactly who had paid thousands to keep him alive. He looked up at the ceiling and allowed the woman to unhook him from all of his machines, a stupid grin on his face. This had to be a sign. Hannibal was going to come back for him.

An hour later, Jack Crawford entered the room, slamming the door as usual behind him. Will didn’t have the heart to laugh at it this time, too upset that Abigail had died in front of him. He could still see it, the blade against her neck, cutting deep. He could still see the blood coming towards him and falling warm against his face. He snapped out of his terrible thoughts when Jack’s voice boomed through the small room, “Will! You’re alright! You were out for weeks. We weren’t sure you’d make it.” Jack seemed tired, walking in a way that showed that he was in pain. Will say up slightly and adjusted himself against his pillows in a way that could be seen as comfortable.

“Yeah… Might have been better if I had died on that floor… Without him I’m not sure who I am anymore.” He paused and whispered, “he’s not coming back for me, is he? Maybe he’s dead… maybe he’s found someone else. A pretty little thing that’ll cling to his arm and treat him the way he wants and talk passionately about the sorrow of the Adagio… I never knew what the Adagio was. He used to laugh at me because I said that it was lively…” he laughed sadly, trying to ignore the tears that were falling down his cheeks. Jack seemed uncomfortable, awkward. He was aware that Will knew who Hannibal was, knew all of the things he had done and still loved him despite his faults. He tried to be comforting, sitting next to his bed and sighing softly,

“No. He most likely won’t come back for you, but don’t lose hope… you’ll find someone better for you. Someone who doesn’t kill people for fun.”

“He didn’t do it for fun, Jack. He did it because, in his eyes, they didn’t deserve to live-“ he realised that Hannibal had killed Abigail, tried to kill all of them. He buried his face in the pillow, sobbing, “We’re not worth shit to him… he just ran off to god knows where so he can start again without any of the baggage of his old life!”

Jack sighed softly and looked up at the ceiling for a moment, “I’ll catch him, Will. Just you wait. I’ll catch him.” He stood up and patted Will on the back much harder than any normal person would. The words were no comfort to Will as he watched Jack leave the room. He brought his chin up and stared at the ceiling, waiting for a sign from Hannibal. Anything.

Weeks passed and there was no sign, no white dove or carrier pigeon, just Will alone in his tiny room with only his heart monitor to keep him company. He had made quite the name for himself amongst the nurses. Whispers of “Who’s taking Graham today? I don’t want him.” Emerging from corridors. He knew they all hated him, but could they blame him for being irritable? Everything he had ever loved had been ripped away from him in an instant,leaving nothing but a shell of himself behind. Each day was agony, waiting and sleeping, maybe eating, but getting straight back to waiting again after that.

It came to the day of his discharge from hospital and he had given up all hope, steeling himself against the outside world as he pulled on some rather baggy clothes that the hospital had supplied him with as a replacement for his blood stained and slashed outfit that he had been brought in wearing. He pulled on his boots which were now a marbled colour of brown leather and dried, black blood, tying the laces tight so that they boots didn’t move at all on his feet. It was then that a nurse came to his room with a small envelope in hand, fitted with an Italian stamp and no return address. He grabbed the letter and opened it quickly, needing to know what was contained within. He recognized the handwriting easily. Those gorgeous loops and slants that altogether gave the impression of Hannibal Lecter. Lines and lines of Hannibal Lecter’s voice, embodied on paper with a fountain pen.

_Dear Will,  
My heart goes out to you, it really does, but you must understand that I had to do what I did. I had no choice, you see._

_I know that you survived because I meant for you to. As expected, each incision I made was calculated. Everyone knew that we were seeing each other despite your best efforts to conceal our affair and, had you come with me, they would have charged you with conspiracy to murder if they ever found you. Or perhaps even charged you with some of the crimes themselves._

_Each day here in Italy is lonesome without you and I trust that you will be able to find me should you desire so, but as I wait, staring at the reflection of a sunset that we do not share in the river, I cannot help but to picture you next to it with your fishing rod in hand, being yelled at by the Polizei. This bed is very lonely without your body sprawled across it. You’d die in this heat. I can practically hear your voice begging for the sun to stop beating down on you so harshly, wishing you could be home again where you could wear that terrible jacket that your father left you and your boots. Here, I could only see you wearing the shirts I picked out for you and tasteful slacks although, regretfully, I do think you’re more of a cargo shorts kind of man._

_I regret what I did to Abigail, but I had no choice. She would have been arrested too, you see, for feigning death in order to live with me. I’m sorry I never told you she was with me, but I hope you appreciate seeing her for a final time. Please attend her funeral and lay flowers on her grave in my name. She deserves nothing less than roses, Will. I hope you will follow that order for me despite no longer being obligated to._

_Did you see that I had a friend pay your hospital expenses? I had hoped to drop by myself, but I had already been here two weeks before you woke and had no means of returning to Baltimore. If you look in the drawer of my dresser, the one that you use for any items you need to keep in my home, you will find enough money to pay for a flight and several new shirts for you to wear when you get here. I look forward to your visit most impatiently. Of course, you needn’t feel obligated to come and live with me here, but Will, the truth is, I am in love with you, despite my thinking that I could never love or feel any emotion. You have taken from me one thing that I will never be able to take back, My heart, and in it’s place, have left nothing but a cavity of black emptiness that could not be filled with even the finest cuts of meat or surgery skills._

_We are connected, you see, whether you like it or not and I am waiting for you. I will continue to wait, but my patience is wearing thin. We will meet again, my dear so hurry up,  
Hannibal Lecter._

 


End file.
